


Applied Skills

by nevermore191



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Humor, Screenplay/Script Format, Supernatural Elements, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermore191/pseuds/nevermore191
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school junior Alexander Kemp is faced with a problem at the beginning of the year: his 6th period class, Applied Skills, is way more supernatural than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Applied Skills

_Lights up on an empty stage. Students enter with backpacks and binders. Some pantomime opening lockers. They freeze mid-conversation._

_ALEXANDER KEMP, a slightly awkward junior in high school, enters. He stands center with a backpack on one shoulder, holding a copy of his class schedule._  

 **ALEXANDER**. Junior year is one of the worst things that can happen to a teenager. You’re pressured to choose colleges and to look for scholarships and you’re supposed to pass your SATs and/or ACTs. And on top of that, you have to do well in all of your classes. Some of my friends are taking four APs and various electives. I’m surprised the average life expectancy isn’t 17. My schedule for this year is a bit weird. I have this one class that I never even signed up for. Applied Skills. I looked it up and it’s supposed to be a class where you learn things that actually help you in the real world. The thing is, there’s no Room 669 at my school… at least, not that I know of. 

_The scene behind him resumes. He makes his way downstage right, reading his schedule. MALLORY MELVILLE, a senior who is best friends with ALEXANDER, walks up to him._

**MALLORY**. What are the odds that I’ll be 1000% done with this school year by tomorrow?

 **ALEXANDER**. One in one. 

 **MALLORY**. How was your summer, Alex?

 **ALEXANDER**. Peaceful while it lasted. You? 

 **MALLORY**. I actually got a job. My aunt owns this sickass record store a few miles north of here at an obscure hipster strip mall and I worked all summer.

 **ALEXANDER**. You? Working? I thought I’d never see the day. 

_LINDA CARLISLE, a kindhearted, brilliant junior, enters. MALLORY holds back a laugh as ALEXANDER glances down at his feet, flustered._

**LINDA**. Hi, Mallory. Hi, Alexander!

 _She hugs ALEXANDER, unintentionally doing the iconic foot pop in the process. He hugs her back awkwardly._  

 **ALEXANDER**. Hello, Linda.

 **LINDA**. ( _Ruffling his hair slightly_ ) Summer really did take its toll on your hair, huh? 

 **ALEXANDER**. What?

 **LINDA**. It’s longer. People’s hair grows faster in the summer. 

 **ALEXANDER**. Oh.

 **LINDA**. I like it. It looks nice. 

 **ALEXANDER**. Thank you. 

_LINDA smiles at ALEXANDER and exits. MALLORY gives ALEXANDER a look._

**ALEXANDER**. Stop. 

 **MALLORY**. I didn’t say anything!

 **ALEXANDER**. But you were thinking it.

 **MALLORY**. She likes you back.

 **ALEXANDER**. Girls don’t like me that way.

 **MALLORY**. That girl does.

 **ALEXANDER**. What’s your next class?

 **MALLORY**. Ceramics. How about you?

 **ALEXANDER**. Applied Skills.

_She grimaces._

**MALLORY**. People don’t really talk about that class.

 **ALEXANDER**. What’s the deal with it, anyway? There’s no Room 669. I’ve never even heard of a class like that until I looked it up.

 **MALLORY**. Oh, you’ll see.

_The bell rings and the other students exit._

**MALLORY**. The ceramics room is pretty close to the Applied Skills room. I’ll walk with you.

_They make their way up left. ALEXANDER pantomimes opening the door that leads to Room 669. The sounds of a crackling fire and blades swinging past is heard as orange light glows from offstage._

**ALEXANDER**. Is that… is that fire?

 **MALLORY**. Yes.

 **ALEXANDER**. And swinging blade pendulums?

 **MALLORY**. Yep.

 **ALEXANDER**. What—

 **MALLORY**. Spikes that descend from the ceiling every few seconds, yes.

_She exits, unseen by ALEXANDER._

**ALEXANDER**. How am I supposed to—

He turns around to see that MALLORY is gone.

 **ALEXANDER**. All of this for five high school credits?

_After a moment, he shrugs and leaps off left._

_French exchange student SANDRINE BONAIRE, LINDA, chatterbox JULIA GARZA, BRANDON HALL who always has to get up and go to the bathroom in the middle of class, bored DESIREE LOMBARDI, gross rich kid WARNER MANCHESTER BODDY III, cheerleader KATIE MARTIN, effortlessly cool VANESSA MOORE, withdrawn ZACHARIAH ROSS, class clown RICKY SMALLS, charming jock NATE DANIELS, SAM TAYLOR who has her head in the clouds 24/7, and PAUL WRIGHT who sleeps through every class enter from right. Desks are moved onstage by the ensemble students, who are now stagehands dressed in all black. Some of the students carry backpacks and binders while others only have pencils._

_A plaque is put on the wall: Room 669. The 9 in 669 is actually a 6 that was flipped upside-down._

_The desks are set up in four rows of four. A larger desk and a swivel chair are brought in, with varying knickknacks: a skull, some white candles, a stuffed crow perched next to the skull, etc. The students sit down, VANESSA with her feet kicked up on her desk, DESIREE on her phone, NATE and JULIA sitting on their desks and talking. RICKY throws balls of paper at the back of WARNER’s head. ZACHARIAH sits in the back corner, avoiding everyone. PAUL falls asleep on his desk instantly. An empty seat is left in front of LINDA and another behind SANDRINE._

_ALEXANDER enters and collapses onto the floor, winded. The chatter in the classroom comes to an abrupt halt as all eyes go to ALEXANDER._

_MR. MORNINGSTAR, a tall, handsome, smooth-talking man in his thirties, stands upstage. He is dressed in a black suit with a red tie._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Take a seat, please.

 **ALEXANDER**. What was that… with the fire and—

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Oh, the hallway? Did you have trouble? Tough. You have to go through that every day for the rest of the semester.

 **ALEXANDER**. You mean I have to go through that whole ordeal with the swinging blade pendulums and the fire for the entire semester?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Yes. Now sit down.

 **ALEXANDER**. Can I at least take a second to catch my breath?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You can catch your breath at a desk.

_ALEXANDER glances around the room. He sees the empty seat in front of LINDA and sits there._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Good afternoon. I’m Mr. Morningstar. Let me take roll and then we’ll start class.

He takes out a clipboard.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Sandrine Bonaire?

_SANDRINE raises her hand._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Linda Carlisle?

 **LINDA**. Present!

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Nathan Daniels? 

 **NATE**. ( _Raising his hand_ ) Hey.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Julia Garza?

 **JULIA**. Here.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Brandon Hall?

 **BRANDON**. Here.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Alexander Kemp?

 **ALEXANDER**. I’m here. Barely.

_MR. MORNINGSTAR glares at ALEXANDER over the top of his clipboard before checking him off. ALEXANDER shifts uncomfortably in his seat._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Desiree Lombardi?

 **DESIREE**. Here…

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Warner Manchester Boddy?

 **WARNER**. The Third.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Is your father W. Manchester Boddy II of Manchester Boddy Corp?

 **WARNER**. The same. My dad says that I get to have the family business once I finish college.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Your father’s company supports pro-lifers and I read an article in yesterday’s paper that W. Manchester Boddy II himself said that he thinks homosexuality is an abomination.

 **WARNER**. But I’m not homophobic, Mr. Morningstar! I have a gay friend!

_Half of the classroom rolls their eyes at WARNER._

**ZACHARIAH**. I’m not your friend, Warner.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I feel physically ill whenever I drive past the Manchester Boddy Corp building on the way to work.

_WARNER sits in a shocked silence._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Kate Martin?

 **KATIE**. Here!

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Vanessa Moore?

 **VANESSA**. Yeah.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Zachariah Ramirez?

_ZACHARIAH raises his hand slightly._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Zachariah?

_ZACHARIAH raises his hand higher._

**ZACHARIAH**. Sorry.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Richard Smalls?

 **RICKY**. Just Ricky.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Samantha Taylor?

_SAMANTHA is completely zoned out._

**JULIA**. Sam.

 **SAMANTHA**. Sorry! Here!

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Andrew Vaughn?

 **NATE**. He’s not here, Mr. Morningstar.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _With growing harshness_ ) Someone is absent on the first day? Just so you know, I don’t tolerate unexcused absences or tardiness in my class. Insubordination is infuriating.

_The class sits in a guilty silence before MR. MORNINGSTAR continues._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Paul Wright?

 **NATE**. Paul is asleep, but he’s here.

_MR. MORNINGSTAR puts his clipboard down._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _Pacing in front of the class_ ) In this class, you’ll be taught how to survive in the real world. NO one tells you how to pay taxes in an algebra class, or how to fill out job applications in English. I’ve been teaching at this school for quite some time, and I’ve been teaching in general for even longer. The other faculty members at the last few schools I’ve taught at have said while my methods are a bit unusual, I have a 90% success rate.

 **LINDA**. ( _Raising her hand_ ) Mr. Morningstar, I heard that this is a pass/fail course. Is—

_The lights slowly fade to red._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _With reverb_ ) I can answer any and all questions when I have the syllabus passed out. Save it until then, Miss Carlisle.

 **LINDA**. ( _Meekly_ ) Right. Sorry.

_The lights go back to their regular color. MR. MORNINGSTAR passes out copies of the syllabus._

**VANESSA**. Hey, teach! It says we need a parent or guardian signature on this, but there’s no space for a signature. There’s just a pentagram at the bottom of the page.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Let me explain the class first.

 **BRANDON**. Can I go to the bathroom?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Take the pass.

_MR. MORNINGSTAR takes out a severed hand from a drawer in his desk and holds it up for the class to see. The students jump in shock at the sight of the hand._

**BRANDON**. You know, on second thought, I think I can hold it.

_ALEXANDER faces the audience and talks over MR. MORNINGSTAR as the syllabus is explained._

**ALEXANDER**. I can’t even begin to describe how weird the contents of the syllabus were. It was entirely in Latin, and yet somehow I understood all of it. The first few weeks involved sparring, washing blood out of various fabrics or surfaces, how to possess people, and how to summon demons. It listed an optional extra credit assignment where you had to battle an archangel. An archangel! And I thought algebra was useless! How are those supposed to be skills we can apply to later life?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Any questions?

 **LINDA**. ( _Raising her hand_ ) Just asking my question from earlier… is this a pass/fail course, Mr. Morningstar?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I prefer to call it a live/die course…

_The students get up as their desks and belongings are moved off to make a semicircle facing the audience. Some sit on the desks, some sit in the chairs, others sit on the floor. MR. MORNINGSTAR removes his jacket and gets two large broadswords from offstage. He tosses one sword to ALEXANDER and demonstrates how to spar to the rest of the class._

**ALEXANDER**. The next day was just as strange as the first. Mallory refused to explain more on the class. All she said was that I couldn’t drop the course, no matter how many times I got burned, beaten up, possessed, or stabbed.

_He turns to MR. MORNINGSTAR and they spar. ALEXANDER runs at MR. MORNINGSTAR with the sword, but MR. MORNINGSTAR simply steps aside._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Again.

 **ALEXANDER**. Isn’t this supposed to be an academic class, Mr. Morningstar?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Again.

_ALEXANDER lunges at MR. MORNINGSTAR a second time. The teacher parries it like he’s swatting a fly._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. _Again_.

_ALEXANDER swings his sword down at MR. MORNINGSTAR’s head, but is once again blocked._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You won’t be able to do it if you don’t try, Alexander.

_ALEXANDER, fed up with the lesson, yells in frustration and runs MR. MORNINGSTAR though with the sword. He backs up, unharmed._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Next time, try not to stab in the chest. Your sword will get stuck in their ribcage. Go for the stomach instead. Next!

_ALEXANDER is stunned. WARNER takes the sword from him and spars with MR. MORNINGSTAR. ALEXANDER goes to sit with LINDA._

**LINDA**. Are you okay?

 **ALEXANDER**. I just ran our teacher through with a sword.

_He pauses, suddenly realizing something._

**ALEXANDER**. Is this why no one talks about this class?

_LINDA shrugs. WARNER trips and falls flat on his face. MR. MORNINGSTAR takes the sword from WARNER._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Who’s next?

_LINDA goes up to spar. She knocks MR. MORNINGSTAR to the floor almost instantly._

**ALEXANDER**. Where did you learn how to do that?

 **LINDA**. I’ve had extensive lessons in 16th-century swordplay. I do fight reenactments at Renaissance fairs all the time.

_The bell rings and MR. MORNINGSTAR gets up off of the floor. The desks are moved offstage._

_ALEXANDER remains alone. He sits on the floor, center stage. He takes his binder and a pen out of his backpack and writes on a sheet of paper (Note: flash paper is to be used in this scene)_

**ALEXANDER**. It’s been three weeks since this year started and we’ve just been assigned our first essay in Applied Skills. I mean, this one is only a page long and isn’t too much work, but not dying in that class is difficult enough!

He pulls out a worksheet and reads.

 **ALEXANDER**. “When finished with your essay, make a small cut on one of your fingers and let a drop of blood fall onto the upper right-hand corner of the paper. Your essays will be graded by next Monday.” This is ridiculous.

_ALEXANDER fishes a safety pin (and a lighter, concealed in the same hand) out of his backpack and pricks his thumb with it. The paper goes up in flames after he gets blood on it._

_MALLORY and LINDA enter._

**MALLORY**. Trust me, telling your mom about Applied Skills is a bad idea. She’ll just think you’re making it all up.

 **LINDA**. So was the hall pass a severed hand when you were taking the class?

 **MALLORY**. It was a live bat that we had to keep on a little leash last year.

 **LINDA**. Aw! How cute! You know, I used to be afraid of bats as a kid. That was before I realized they weren’t really scary, and when my paralyzing fear of puppets set in.

 **MALLORY**. Puppets?

 **LINDA**. Even when someone isn’t controlling them, they still stare at you with their dead, beady eyes and it scares the living hell out of me.

_MALLORY notices that ALEXANDER has been there the whole time._

**MALLORY**. Oh, hey.

 **LINDA**. You’re bleeding! Is it the essay?

 **ALEXANDER**. Yeah.

 **MALLORY**. You’re supposed to clean your wounds and bandage them up, you loser.

 **ALEXANDER**. It’s not even that much blood. I’ll be fine.

 **LINDA**. That doesn’t mean you should disregard the possibility of infection.

 **ALEXANDER**. I bet no one else did that after turning in the essay.

_LINDA holds up her left index finger to show that she has a Band-Aid on it._

**LINDA**. Safety first.

 _MALLORY’s phone vibrates. She answers the call she’s getting._  

 **MALLORY**. Yeah? What do you mean someone bought the last "Veil of Carnations" record? Oh my God, Eliza, I told you to make sure no one bought it! I wanted it for my birthday! Is "Pieces of Loser" still in stock? One left? Are you… Hold on, I’ll be there in five minutes.

_She hangs up._

**MALLORY**. You can’t just let the most recent Cul-de-Sac Vigilante album get to the point where it’s almost out of stock. Jesus _Christ_ , Eliza…

S _he waves goodbye to ALEXANDER and LINDA, exiting._

_ALEXANDER gathers his belongings._

**ALEXANDER**. I’m going to get a terrible grade on this essay.

 **LINDA**. How do you know that?

 **ALEXANDER**. Half of the content of it is bull, and Mr. Morningstar hates me.

 **LINDA**. He doesn’t hate you, Alexander.

 **ALEXANDER**. He despises me. It’s probably because I’m always late and my test scores suck.

 **LINDA**. Getting to that class isn’t exactly a walk in the park. And last time I graded one of our quizzes, you got 18/20. You’re not unintelligent. You just need to give the class 100%.

 **ALEXANDER**. I’m trying my hardest, but it’s just so weird.

 **LINDA**. He’ll really hate you if he catches you saying that.

 **ALEXANDER**. Are you passing the class so far?

 **LINDA**. Yes.

 **ALEXANDER**. I’m too afraid to ask Mr. Morningstar how I’m doing in the class.

 **LINDA**. He’s really not as scary as he seems in class, Alexander.

 **ALEXANDER**. I shouldn’t even be asking you for advice on this. You’re perfect. You’re at the top of all your classes and you can swordfight and you’re beautiful and you like what you like without worrying about what people think. And then there’s me. My B+ in AP Rhetoric is the only thing keeping me at a 2.3 GPA and the minimum for college acceptance is 3.0. I have a bunch of Cs. I’m on the verge of failing AP Environmental. I don’t even have my driver’s license because I’m afraid I’ll hit someone. I walk into Applied Skills every day fearing for my life because there is no “passing with a C” and I loathe you and your perfect grades, and I loathe myself even more for that because you don’t deserve hatred. You’re wonderful. I’m a failure. No, I’m a joke. Why do you even bother telling me I’m not so I’ll feel better about myself?

_LINDA flings her arms around ALEXANDER’s neck. After a moment to process what just happened, he hugs her back._

_The desks are moved on once more. ALEXANDER and LINDA take their seats._

**ALEXANDER**. I was dreading the moment when we would be assigned group projects. Group projects are the worst because you’re either doing all the work or talking the whole time and leaving some other poor soul to do all the work. I must confess, I usually do the latter and Linda does the former.

_He turns back to face MR. MORNINGSTAR._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You’ve all been assigned groups to work in. The project is due in two weeks and it will immensely contribute to your final grades. Since we’re just now finishing the demon summoning unit, I figured now would be a good time to work on actual summoning rituals. Each group has a specific demon assigned to them.

_He reads off the list of groups._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Group 1: Nate, Julia, and Vanessa. Your group will be summoning a jikininki, a corpse-eating spirit from Japanese mythology.

_NATE and JULIA high five._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Group 2: Katie, Brandon, and Zachariah. You’ve been assigned to summon the Krampus, a German demon who punishes naughty children at Christmas.

 **KATIE**. Mr. Morningstar, Brandon is still in the bathroom.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Tell him when he gets back.

 **KATIE**. Fine.

_She turns to VANESSA._

**KATIE**. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even in the bathroom… I remember that last year he’d be taking walks around campus and buying snacks from the vending machine when “going to the bathroom”.

 **VANESSA**. Seriously?

_KATIE nods._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Group 3: Paul, Ricky, and Desiree. You have to summon Davy Jones.

 **RICKY**. You can’t be serious. Davy Jones?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Yes.

_RICKY pokes PAUL in the shoulder with his pencil._

**RICKY**. Paul. Paul. Wake up!

_PAUL is still out cold. RICKY rolls his eyes._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Group 4: Samantha, Sandrine, and Andrew. You three are to summon the Killakee Cat, a demon cat that haunts the Hell Fire Club in Ireland.

 **SANDRINE**. ( _With a strong French accent_ ) Mr. Morningstar, is the cat dangerous?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Est très dangereux. Bonne chance, Mademoiselle Bonaire.

 **KATIE**. Andrew isn’t even here today.

 **RICKY**. Andrew hasn’t been here the whole semester. I don’t think he’s gonna magically show up, unless we summon him instead of Davy Jones.

 **SAMANTHA**. Mr. Morningstar, are we allowed to summon Andrew?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. No.

_He reads off the last group._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Group 5: Warner, Alexander, and Linda.

 **ALEXANDER**. Is that just a typo, Mr. Morningstar?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. No, Alexander, I’m pretty sure this isn’t a typo. You and Warner just have to suck it up and work together.

 **WARNER**. I’d rather work alone, Mr. Morningstar.

_The lights turn red._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _With reverb_ ) You’ll work in the groups you’ve been assigned to and you won’t whine about it. Are we understood?

_WARNER sulks at his desk._

**ALEXANDER**. (Bitterly) Yes, sir.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Considering Linda’s performance in this class, you have been assigned to summon an incubus.

 **LINDA**. But Mr. Morningstar, we’re minors.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Yes. And?

 **LINDA**. Incubi are literally sex demons.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Do you have a problem with the assignment? I chose that type of demon because I thought you would be able to take a difficult task, Miss Carlisle.

 **LINDA**. I don’t have a problem, it’s just—

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You are to film your summoning and present it to the class by the due date. Good luck.

_The students move their desks to sit with their groups. MR. MORNINGSTAR takes a seat at his desk and reads a copy of Paradise Lost, looking amused by the inaccuracy._

**WARNER**. So what exactly is an incubus?

 **LINDA**. It’s a male demon that preys on people as they sleep to… to engage in sexual activity. Sometimes they’re not even asleep. Usually, those who summon incubi are seeking intercourse. Incubi vary by location, however. There’s the _lidérc_ in Hungary that take the forms of fire or will-o’-the-wisps and later change into handsome men and are taken by women as sort of Satanic lovers. Well… _lidérc_ is also a name for a miracle chicken, but still… There’s also the Boto of Brazil that’s sort of a cross between a siren and an incubus. They seduce young women at night and take them to the river, and assume the form of the dolphin that bears the same name during the day.

 **WARNER**. I asked for the definition of an incubus, not a lecture.

 **ALEXANDER**. Shut up, Warner.

 **LINDA**. I really don’t want to summon one, though.

 **WARNER**. We can’t exactly go and pull some other demon out of our asses, Linda.

 **ALEXANDER**. Can’t we just bring it up with Mr. Morningstar? If she isn’t comfortable with it, we shouldn’t have to.

 **WARNER**. You don’t have to side with her just because you like her.

_LINDA can see an argument coming and flips through the course textbook, an old leather-bound grimoire._

**ALEXANDER**. You don’t have to make smart remarks about everything just because your dad doesn’t care about you.

 **WARNER**. Shut up!

 **LINDA**. ( _Reading the grimoire_ ) Maybe I could summon a Prince of Hell. I’d probably get extra credit.

 **ALEXANDER**. ( _To WARNER_ ) My dad could beat up your dad. 

 **WARNER**. My dad could sue your dad.

 **ALEXANDER**. My dad is an attorney and wins most of his cases.

 **WARNER**. My dad is—

 **ALEXANDER**. We all know who your dad is, Warner.

 **LINDA**. ( _Under the bickering_ ) Let’s see… I could probably use a basic incantation, like this one. “Te invoco apro fundus inferni…”

 **ALEXANDER**. If your dad is so rich, why aren’t you in a private school? Is it because you’ve been kicked out of so many that none of the others will let you go there?

 **WARNER**. If your dad is so rich, why do you look like some street rat?

 **ALEXANDER**. I do not look like a street rat, you son of a—

 **WARNER**. Billionaire?

 **ALEXANDER**. You’re basic, Warner Manchester Boddy.

_The lights flicker for a moment and then blow out entirely. The students scream, startled by the sudden blackout._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.

_ALEXANDER takes out his phone and uses the flashlight application. The others follow his example._

**ALEXANDER**. Linda? Linda, where are you?

_He shines his phone over to where LINDA is sitting, only to see the demon ASMODEUS standing right behind LINDA._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Not you. Not today. Get out of my classroom, Asmodeus.

_The lights go back up slightly, now dim and red._

**ASMODEUS**. Oh, come on, Morningstar! I haven’t been out of Hell in ages!

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _To the students_ ) Everyone get behind me. I don’t know how Linda managed to summon a Prince of Hell, but we shouldn’t get too close.

 **ASMODEUS**. She’s awfully pretty. ( _To LINDA_ ) I bet all the boys like you.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. That girl is sixteen years old and still underage in this country.

 **ASMODEUS**. You’re no fun.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. If you so much as think about tempting her into sin, I will personally send your ass right back to the inferno.

 **ASMODEUS**. I thought you hated children.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I do, but they’re my children for this class period. Leave. Now.

 **ASMODEUS**. You can’t tell me what to do. Last time I checked, you have no power over me. We’re equals. I guess we can’t help our sins. It’s just that mine didn’t make me fall from grace.

_MR. MORNINGSTAR glances from ALEXANDER to LINDA and back, signaling for him to get her away from ASMODEUS. After a moment’s thought, ALEXANDER tackles LINDA to the floor. ZACHARIAH runs off in the other direction and returns with a sword._

**ALEXANDER**. Sorry, Linda!

_ZACHARIAH hands the sword to LINDA. She lunges at ASMODEUS and wounds him._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.

_A high-pitched shriek is heard from the demon as MR. MORNINGSTAR exorcises him._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare.

_The lights go back out. After a moment of dread-filled silence, they come back up and ASMODEUS is gone._

**ALEXANDER**. Are you okay, Linda?

 **LINDA**. Yeah.

 **ALEXANDER**. I’m sorry I had to tackle you like that.

 **LINDA**. No, it’s fine. All of that was my fault. I should’ve just stuck with summoning an incubus and saved the class the trouble. Speaking of which, we should go back to the project.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You’re excused from the assignment, Linda.

 **LINDA**. What?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. After that ordeal, you shouldn’t have to deal with any more demons.

 **LINDA**. Thanks, Mr. Morningstar.

_The students rearrange their desks. ALEXANDER stays standing._

**ALEXANDER**. That was wild from start to finish. We did have days in Applied Skills that weren’t as wild, though. Some days were lecture days, but those were kind of boring compared to the weird stuff. The only completely normal day was when our principal, Mr. di Angelo, came in to observe the class while we were watching a film on how to pay bills.

_He takes his seat. MR. DI ANGELO, a spirited man of roughly the same age as MR. MORNINGSTAR, enters, holding a clipboard. MR. MORNINGSTAR looks especially peeved by MR. DI ANGELO’s presence._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _Bitingly_ ) We have our principal observing the class today. Mr. di Angelo has graciously agreed to sit in for today’s lesson.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. You won’t even know I’m here.

_MR. MORNINGSTAR goes to his desk and passes out copies of a guided note-taking worksheet. He takes out a remote from a desk drawer and presses play, taking a seat as soon as the task is completed. A monotone voice drones things in gibberish under the next dialogue._

_MR. DI ANGELO goes to stand near MR. MORNINGSTAR’s desk._

**MR. DI ANGELO**. So, Luce, how’s teaching been?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Fine.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. Which is worse: high school or Hell?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I really don’t want to talk to you right now, Gabriel.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. Oh, come on. We haven’t had a chat in a while. Don’t you want to know how much longer you have until you can “retire”?

_MR. MORNINGSTAR perks up a bit._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I’m listening.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. The Superintendent says that you’ve got a few weeks left.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. A few weeks meaning what?

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. Until the end of the semester.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I’ll be released from my indentures forever? I can go home?

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. Well, not home. You’ve been banished from that home.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I don’t want to talk about it, Gabriel.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. The Catholics confess to their sins. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t, too.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. It’s not my fault that it happened.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. You let your pride get the best of you.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I was thrown out of the only home I ever knew. He still hasn’t forgiven me for it. I’ve confessed to being proud and vain, but I’m never pardoned.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. I must admit, Luce, you were always the hot one. You still are. Maybe He was jealous of you.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Stop calling me Luce. It’s caught on with the rest of the faculty and it’s really annoying.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. We used to be friends. Do you remember that?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I’ve tried to forget what happened after I left.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. You know, if there’s anything I remember about you while you were still the angel we all knew and loved, it was your sense of humor. Where did it go?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. It probably fell from grace and burnt up in the atmosphere.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. That’s more like it!

_MR. MORNINGSTAR smiles to himself._

**MR. DI ANGELO**. I guess there’s still one beautiful thing that you got to keep.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Huh?

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. That dazzling smile of yours.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _Trying to hide how flattered he is_ ) Stop.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. It was good seeing you again, Morningstar.

_He exits. MR. MORNINGSTAR takes out his remote control and stops the audio playing. The students pass in their notes._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. All right, we’ve only got a few weeks left before you end the semester. It’s time we started the difficult stuff. Turn to page 665 in your textbooks.

_They flip through their textbooks._

**ALEXANDER**. ( _Raising his hand_ ) How do you pronounce this exorcism incantation?

 **LINDA**. I’ve been brushing up on my Latin since the whole Asmodeus thing. Let me read it.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. I don’t think that’s a good idea.

_She reads over MR. MORNINGSTAR’s warnings._

**LINDA**. “Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanis salutis.”

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Linda, stop reading. That exorcism isn’t taught in schools anymore. There’s no use for it here.

 **LINDA**. “Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge”

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Linda, stop.

 **LINDA**. “…invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine…”

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Linda Carlisle!

 **LINDA**. “…quen inferi tremunt.”

_BRANDON returns from the bathroom as the lights begin to flicker._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE ONCE I GET—

_The lights go out suddenly. Once the lights come back up, there is nothing left of MR. MORNINGSTAR but a puff of smoke._

**BRANDON**. What just happened?

 **RICKY**. Does this mean we can leave 6th period early?

 **JULIA**. What are we supposed to do without Mr. Morningstar?

 **DESIREE**. That was a mediocre exit at best.

 **RICKY**. I say we all just go home.

 **LINDA**. I’m calling the office.

 **NATE**. No! We’ll get in trouble for sending Mr. Morningstar to Hell!

 **ALEXANDER**. We can’t just go through the rest of the period unsupervised.

 **WARNER**. They should at least bring in a different teacher so we don’t accidentally send someone else to Hell, Linda.

 **ZACHARIAH**. No one cares what you have to say, Racist Homophobe III. Nobody likes you.

_LINDA calls the office on the classroom phone._

**LINDA**. Hi, this is a student speaking. Linda Carlisle… no, Mr. Morningstar isn’t here right now. He’s in Hell… yes, I mean that literally. We’ve accidentally sent him there and require supervision from a different teacher… no, this is not a prank call… what? Yes, ma’am… it doesn’t matter who it is, just send a teacher whose 6th period is their prep period… yes, I’ll tell him as soon as we bring him back. Thank you.

_She hangs up._

**LINDA**. We should be getting a new teacher shortly.

 **SANDRINE**. ( _With a strong French accent_ ) That will not help us get Mr. Morningstar back from _l’enfer_.

_MRS. O’HARA, a pleasant-looking woman in her forties, enters. VANESSA rolls her eyes._

**NATE**. What?

 **VANESSA**. That bitch is my AP Gov teacher. She makes us do book work all the goddamn time. I feel like we don’t learn anything in that class. We’re nowhere ready for the AP test.

 **LINDA**. Maybe that’s for the best.

 **MRS. O’HARA**. I came here as fast as I could. Obviously I’m not an Applied Skills teacher, but you needed someone to supervise…

 **LINDA**. Actually, Mrs. O’Hara, Mr. Morningstar assigned something in the textbook we’re supposed to do.

 **MRS. O’HARA**. Oh! In that case, go right ahead.

_LINDA takes out the grimoire and frantically flips through it as MRS. O’HARA takes a seat at MR. MORNINGSTAR’s desk, reading his copy of Paradise Lost._

**LINDA**. Let’s see… I have a basic summoning ritual here. How does one summon a human from Hell?

 **RICKY**. Linda, I’m 99% sure that Mr. Morningstar is not a human being.

 **ALEXANDER**. You should just use the basic one and go from there.

 **LINDA**. It says we need candles and human blood.

 **WARNER**. I say we use Alexander’s blood.

_LINDA hits WARNER over the head with the grimoire._

**ZACHARIAH**. Why don’t we use your blood, Warner?

 **VANESSA**. Now we’re talking.

 **WARNER**. Wait, what if I don’t want to have my blood used to summon Mr. Morningstar from Hell?

 **NATE**. All in favor raise your hand.

_All except WARNER raise their hands._

**WARNER**. Now wait just a minute!

 **KATIE**. Majority rules.

 **JULIA**. How much blood do we need?

 **LINDA**. It says that we need just enough to draw a pentacle big enough for a person to stand in the center is required for the summoning.

 **SAMANTHA**. Sounds easy enough.

 **WARNER**. Fine. Use my blood. Take me to the nurse as soon as he’s back, though.

 **LINDA**. Move the desks aside.

_BRANDON, NATE, RICKY, and ALEXANDER push the desks to the sides of the room. MRS. O’HARA doesn’t see a thing._

**LINDA**. We need candles.

 **VANESSA**. I don’t think we can just take the candles from off of Mr. Morningstar’s desk without O’Hara noticing. I’m pretty sure that there are some in the desk drawer.

_She goes to MR. MORNINGSTAR’s desk, staying out of their substitute’s field of vision. MRS. O’HARA faces the other direction, still reading. VANESSA opens up a drawer and reaches her arm in. The inside of the drawer is much deeper than expected, and she ends up shoulder deep into the drawer before retrieving five candles and placing them in front of LINDA._

**LINDA**. Thanks. ( _To NATE_ ) Nate, I know you have a lighter with you right now. May I please borrow it for the ritual?

_NATE reluctantly hands LINDA a lighter._

**LINDA**. Thank you. And please quit smoking. You’ll destroy your lungs.

 **ALEXANDER**. What should we use to get blood from Warner?

 **LINDA**. Keys? Scissors, maybe?

 **JULIA**. I have some nail clippers that have a little metal file built in.

 **WARNER**. I’m starting to have doubts…

_ZACHARIAH goes off left and returns with a sword._

**ZACHARIAH**. How about this?

 **LINDA**. That works.

_Right as WARNER is about to cut his hand on the sword to get blood, MRS. O’HARA glances up from the book and gasps in horror._

**MRS. O’HARA**. What do you think you’re doing? Put that sword down this instant!

 **ALEXANDER**. This is in the book!

 **MRS. O’HARA**. If you insist…

_She goes back to reading. WARNER slices his palm with the sword and draws a pentacle on the floor with the blood. ALEXANDER sets the candles out on the five points of the star and lights them. LINDA reads the incantation from the book._

**LINDA**. “Ad ligandum eos partier eos coram me.”

_They wait for something to happen, but there is nothing._

**LINDA**. That was supposed to work.

 **ALEXANDER**. ( _Reading over her shoulder_ ) It says you need the blood of the person doing the summoning. Either we have to use some of your blood or Warner has to read the incantation, and I’d rather not have you bleeding all over the classroom.

 **LINDA**. Warner, can you pronounce Latin correctly?

 **WARNER**. I can try.

_She hands him the grimoire._

**WARNER**. ( _Mispronouncing it_ ) “Ad ligandum eos partier eos coram me.”

 **RICKY**. You said you could try.

 **WARNER**. I did try! You can’t expect me to pronounce everything in a dead language correctly! I’m not perfect like Linda. 

_The lights flicker before going out completely. Once they come back up, MR. MORNINGSTAR is standing in the center of the pentacle, more annoyed than relieved to be back._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You might’ve added a few millennia onto my sentence as a schoolteacher, but at least I’m back. Nicely done, Miss Carlisle. Excellent leadership on your part.

 **MRS. O’HARA**. Luce!

_MR. MORNINGSTAR grits his teeth upon hearing the nickname._

**MRS. O’HARA**. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. What are you doing here, Karen?

 **LINDA**. Mr. Morningstar, I’m sorry I sent you to Hell. It was an accident. I don’t know what I was thinking.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. The important thing is that you managed to get me back before 6th period ended.

 **WARNER**. Will someone please take me to the nurse now?

_The desks are removed as MR. MORNINGSTAR and MRS. O’HARA exit. They remain onstage, waiting for their rides home. Other students who are not in Applied Skills (and have doubled as stagehands) enter, talking amongst themselves. MALLORY enters with them._

**ALEXANDER**. I’m surprised that Warner’s dad isn’t filing a lawsuit against all of the people involved in bringing Mr. Morningstar back from Hell.

 **MALLORY**. What did I miss?

 **NATE**. Linda accidentally banished Mr. Morningstar to Hell.

 **MALLORY**. The worst thing that ever happened last year was when we accidentally lost Jeremy Patel in the 9th Circle while we were on a field trip to Hell. He hasn’t been the same since.

 **VANESSA**. Isn’t Jeremy Patel the guy who got a full ride to Stanford?

 **MALLORY**. His memories of Hell will haunt him way past college.

 **RICKY**. You went on a field trip to Hell last year?

 **MALLORY**. Yeah. We all had to wear these amulets that Mr. Morningstar passed out that were supposed to keep us safe from harm and all together, but Jeremy lost his while in the 9th Circle and we looked for him for an hour before finding him huddled up in a ball behind some poor soul encased in ice in Judecca.

 **LINDA**. Oh my God, that sounds awful!

 **MALLORY**. Maybe if you ask Mr. Morningstar, you guys can go visit Hell.

 **ZACHARIAH**. Maybe we can leave Warner there on purpose and never go back to look for him.

 **BRANDON**. I haven’t been on an actual field trip in years.

 **JULIA**. Let’s ask tomorrow during 6th period!

_The classroom is set up. MR. MORNINGSTAR stands up at the front of the room while the students sit at their desks. ALEXANDER addresses the audience._

**ALEXANDER**. Let’s just say that Mr. Morningstar wasn’t very sure at first...

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. No.

 **JULIA**. Why?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Do you know what happened last year? We left Jeremy Patel behind in Judecca and didn’t realize he was gone until I took a headcount of the group right before we went back. You don’t want that to be you, do you?

 **RICKY**. Well, it was definitely a unique experience for Jeremy. That story is quite the icebreaker.

_LINDA hits RICKY in the head with the grimoire._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. If I say yes, will you children stop harassing me about it?

 **STUDENTS**. Yes.

_MR. MORNINGSTAR grits his teeth._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Fine.

_He goes to his desk and rummages through a drawer for permission slips._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _Passing out papers_ ) Bring your permission slips in by Friday. Those of you who don’t have parent signatures will have to be stuck with the sub. And don’t try forging them! I can smell deceit.

_NATE and JULIA high five. All but ALEXANDER, VANESSA, PAUL, and DESIREE exit, taking their backpacks with them._

**ALEXANDER**. I have countless stories to tell about Applied Skills, but that field trip isn’t one of them. My mom never signed my permission slip, since she thought I was making the whole thing up. I’m surprised that people even actually got theirs signed, since my mom wasn’t buying it. The people who were also staying behind spent most of the period on their phones, and I spent a good ten minutes laughing over a text I got from Mallory.

_The students who left re-enter, in a horrified daze. MR. MORNINGSTAR enters from behind the crowd, doing a headcount._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Sandrine, Linda, Nate, Julia, Warner, Katie, Zachariah, Ricky… Damn it! Where’s Brandon?

 **KATIE**. He had to go to the bathroom while we were in the circle with the Leviathans.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.

_He exits. The students slowly make their way back to their desks, stunned. LINDA sits on her desk with her feet on the chair, facing ALEXANDER._

**LINDA**. I don’t know why I wanted to see Hell in the first place. I feel miserable. All of those poor, tortured souls are still down there, damned for all time… it’s depressing.

 **ALEXANDER**. Yeah, I read Inferno a while back. It’s no Disneyland. Did you faint from pity like Dante did?

 **LINDA**. I felt like I was going to, but no. And let’s be real, in this situation where we’re the protagonists of Inferno, you’d be Dante and I’d be Virgil.

_MR. MORNINGSTAR re-enters with BRANDON slung over one shoulder._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _Muttering to himself_ ) Now I have to tell kids about both Jeremy Patel AND Brandon Hall. What part of “you could get lost” do they not understand?

_He puts BRANDON down, who is petrified with fear, and goes to sit at his desk. The bell rings and the students leave, NATE helping BRANDON on the way out._

_ALEXANDER goes to MR. MORNINGSTAR’s desk. MR. MORNINGSTAR is doing paperwork._

**ALEXANDER**. Mr. Morningstar?

_MR. MORNINGSTAR glances up from his work._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You’ve never approached me after class, Alexander. 

 **ALEXANDER**. What exactly are the details of the extra credit?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. It’s simple, really. You have to battle an archangel and survive.

 **ALEXANDER**. But how am I supposed to find an archangel to fight?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. ( _Gathering his belongings_ ) Ask the principal.

_ALEXANDER glances over his shoulder to the hallway. MR. MORNINGSTAR exits, unseen by ALEXANDER._

**ALEXANDER**. Mr. di Angelo? ( _Turning back_ ) Why—

_He notices that MR. MORNINGSTAR is gone. ALEXANDER stands downstage as MR. MORNINGSTAR’s desk and chair are moved to the other side of the stage._

_The lights suddenly get brighter as the scene changes. The skull, candles, and crow on MR. MORNINGSTAR’s desk are replaced with a framed photo of four men (two of them being a younger MR. DI ANGELO and MR. MORNINGSTAR), a trumpet figurine, and a vase of lilies. MR. DI ANGELO takes a seat behind the desk, doing paperwork as ALEXANDER talks._

**ALEXANDER**. I’d only been to Mr. di Angelo’s office twice in my time at my school: once last year because I won a district-wide writing competition and once when I was a freshman because I’d been decked in the face for being snarky to a senior. Chad Keahi was a prick. I’m pretty sure he still is. If he were an archangel, I’d forego the extra credit and fight him anyway. 

_He makes his way to the desk and angelic harp music plays. MR. DI ANGELO glances up from his paperwork._

**MR. DI ANGELO**. Oh, hello, Alexander! What brings you to my office?

 **ALEXANDER**. You heard the harp music too, right?

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. Harp music?

 **ALEXANDER**. Never mind. Mr. Morningstar told me to come here. It’s for an extra credit assignment for Applied Skills.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. I’m here to help.

 **ALEXANDER**. The assignment is to, and I quote, “battle an archangel”. Mr. Morningstar said to talk to you about where to find an archangel to battle.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. That Morningstar is a real riot…

 **ALEXANDER**. What do you mean?

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. He and I have a very complicated relationship, Alexander. In simpler terms, we’re sort of… brothers. We grew up together and used to be friends, up until he suddenly went through a teenage rebellion phase that got so out of hand that he was out. I didn’t see him again until I found out that he was going to start teaching here.

 **ALEXANDER**. What does this have to do with battling archangels?

_MR. DI ANGELO stands and a bright white light shines from behind him as an angelic choir sings. ALEXANDER shields his eyes for a moment before realizing what’s going on._

**ALEXANDER**. Oh—oh. So when Mr. Morningstar said to talk to the principal, he was saying that you’re… I get it!

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. You’re not surprised that I’m—

 **ALEXANDER**. You chose the calmest day we’ve had all year to come observe the class.

_The light dies down._

**MR. DI ANGELO**. You know, you’ve reminded me of Mr. Morningstar ever since you came in here after being punched in the face by that one senior.

 **ALEXANDER**. What?

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. The two of you combined are snarky enough to compensate for the rest of the world.

 **ALEXANDER**. Do I have to battle you or can it be a different archangel?

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. Of all the archangels, I’m the easiest to fight. Do not try to fight Michael. He’ll beat you up worse than Chad Keahi did. The thing is, Alexander, I don’t want to battle. I’m sure that girl Linda Carlisle could find a way to make it look like you were in a fight.

_ALEXANDER sees the framed photo on the desk._

**ALEXANDER**. Is that—

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. Mr. Morningstar and myself? Yes. Even now he doesn’t look a day over 25,000.

 **ALEXANDER**. What was that last bit?

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. 25. I said 25.

 **ALEXANDER**. I’m pretty sure you said 25,000.

 **MR. DI ANGELO**. You must be hearing things, kid.

_His desk is moved off and ALEXANDER is left onstage alone._

**ALEXANDER**. We got to the end of the grimoire a week or so before finals. Mr. Morningstar said that our final wasn’t going to be a written test, but that’s all he had to say on the matter. Nothing about how we should study. Just that it wasn’t written. Everyone feared for their lives.

_MALLORY enters._

**MALLORY**. Are you ready for your finals?

 **ALEXANDER**. How should I study for the Applied Skills final?

 **MALLORY**. You don’t.

 **ALEXANDER**. We’re just supposed to go in without any studying and take the final?

 **MALLORY**. Pretty much. The final is different every year. When I took it, it was a trial of physical strength. We had to go through an obstacle course where we utilized all of the things we learned in the year.

 **ALEXANDER**. But you have no idea what this year’s final is, do you?

 **MALLORY**. Not in the slightest.

_The bell rings._

**MALLORY**. Good luck. You’ll need it to survive.

_She exits. LINDA enters, giving MALLORY a look of dread._

**ALEXANDER**. I’m nowhere near ready for the final.

 **LINDA**. I don’t think anyone is.

 **ALEXANDER**. Do you have any last words for me in case one of us or neither of us makes it out alive?

 **LINDA**. I like you. In the “I’d like to date you and kiss your face” way. I have since last year.

 **ALEXANDER**. Really?

 **LINDA**. Yeah.

 **ALEXANDER**. I never--

 **LINDA**. ( _Teasingly_ ) That’s because you’re dense, Alexander.

 **ALEXANDER**. No, I just never thought you’d say that. I like you in the “I’d like to date you and kiss your face” way, too.

 **LINDA**. Really?

 **ALEXANDER**. Yeah.

_They look away from each other, smiling in that way where you know there’s a fluttery awkwardness that young lovers feel. LINDA comes back to her senses after that moment._

**LINDA**. Are you scared at all?

 **ALEXANDER**. Terrified.

 **LINDA**. Mr. Morningstar wasn’t kidding about Applied Skills being a live/die course.

 **ALEXANDER**. I just hope I don’t have to kill anything… or anyone.

_LINDA kisses him on the cheek._

**LINDA**. Good luck.

 **ALEXANDER**. Good luck to you, too.

_LINDA pantomimes opening the door to the Applied Skills hallway and the sound of flames and blades are heard once more. She gives ALEXANDER  reassuring look before they exit._

_The lights turn orange as ALEXANDER enters from right._

**ALEXANDER**. Okay, this is weird. The hallway is gone, the classroom is gone…

_MR. MORNINGSTAR enters, unseen by ALEXANDER._

**ALEXANDER**. ( _Exasperated_ ) I just want my five credits.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You won’t get them. You’re failing the class so miserably that you have to take another semester of Applied Skills, Mr. Kemp. That is, if you survive your final. I doubt you will.

 **ALEXANDER**. What is the final?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. It’s too complex for you to comprehend. You might as well not even take the final. You’ll never pass.

_He exits and MALLORY takes his place._

**ALEXANDER**. What are you doing here?

 **MALLORY**. I decided I’d talk to Mr. Morningstar about what this year’s final is. He said you’d never be able to pass it. You’re such a loser, Alex.

 **ALEXANDER**. It can’t be that difficult.

 **MALLORY**. Oh, no. It’s not difficult. You’re just stupid.

_She exits._

**ALEXANDER**. What is going on?

_LINDA enters._

**ALEXANDER**. ( _Relieved_ ) Linda!

 **LINDA**. Chill. Did you finish your final?

 **ALEXANDER**. I haven’t taken it yet.

 **LINDA**. Mine was super easy. Well… I probably shouldn’t say that because it’s going to be hard for you.

 **ALEXANDER**. People keep saying that.

 **LINDA**. What? That you have a brain the size of a pea? That’s because it’s true, Alexander. You’re as stupid as they get. I’ve never met someone with such a huge potential for complete failure.

 **ALEXANDER**. ( _Heartbroken_ ) Linda…

_She gives him a look of disgust and exits. Suddenly, hundreds of papers rain down onto ALEXANDER. He grabs one and reads it._

**ALEXANDER**. College rejection letters? From Berkeley? “Dear Mr. Kemp, the admissions committee has met and I am sorry to inform you that we were not able to admit you to Berkeley this year.” I haven’t even sent in applications and they don’t want me?

_He reads some others._

**ALEXANDER**. Yale, USC… I never wanted to apply there! Is there any college that will accept me?

_The stream of papers gets heavier and heavier until it’s nearly impossible to see ALEXANDER. He begins to panic before realizing what’s going on._

**ALEXANDER**. Enough!

_The letters stop falling._

**ALEXANDER**. I know for a fact that Linda would never say something like that. Even with the crippling fear of failure always nagging at the back of my mind, I know she wouldn’t. She just said a few minutes ago that she likes me back. And even though Mr. Morningstar acts like he hates us, I remember when he said we were his kids when the demon Asmodeus was summoned during class. And Mallory calls me a loser all the time, but she says it with love because we’re friends. And besides, I’m not stupid. I brought my grades up and I have mostly A’s and B’s. I’m taking four AP classes. I could get into Berkeley if I wanted to. I’m not a failure.

_The lights go back to their usual colors for the classroom. ALEXANDER steps out of the pile of college rejection letters and two stagehands dressed sweep them up with push brooms._

_Rage screaming is heard from off right. MR. MORNINGSTAR runs in from right, carrying a creepy-looking marionette with him. LINDA chases after him, carrying a broadsword. She slices the strings with her sword before wildly stabbing the puppet, murder in her eyes. MR. MORNINGSTAR has a look of pure terror on his face. LINDA throws the sword down, winded._

**ALEXANDER**. LINDA!

 **LINDA**. Alexander!

_They embrace._

**MR. MORNINGSTAR**. Well, Linda, you passed your final with flying colors. I’ve never been more terrified in my life.

 **LINDA**. Thank you, Mr. Morningstar.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You too, Alexander. Most of my students whose worst fears are failure or rejection can’t handle finals like this and end up taking another semester of Applied Skills, but you did quite well. You passed.

 **ALEXANDER**. But what was the purpose of that final?

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. You have to face your inner demons before you face the real ones.

 **ALEXANDER**. So you decided that it was a logical decision to make your students face their worst fears in order to get used to things that are even worse? That is the dumbest moral I’ve ever...

_WARNER, ZACHARIAH, SANDRINE, and VANESSA, followed by the others, enter, stunned._

**VANESSA**. Damn. I learned more about myself in that final than I have in eighteen years of life.

 **WARNER**. I thought it was easy.

 **ZACHARIAH**. That’s because your worst fear is like… same-sex marriage being legalized in all of the United States or black people or the minimum wage being brought up or some bullshit like that.

 **MR. MORNINGSTAR**. As I said at the beginning of the year, I have a 90% success rate, and sure enough, most of you passed.

_The bell rings and the students collect their belongings._

**LINDA**. Oh, and just out of curiosity, sir, what exactly does the L in L. Morningstar stand for?

_MR. MORNINGSTAR notices that the room number is wrong. He flips the 9 back up, making it Room 666. ALEXANDER’s jaw drops in shock. MR. MORNINGSTAR looks back over his shoulder at them, grinning slyly, before he exits._

**ALEXANDER**. I went through an entire semester of Applied Skills taught by Lucifer, the Deceiver, Father of Lies, for just five credits?

**END OF PLAY**


End file.
